


One Night Only

by iconicklaine



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Tumblr: klaineadvent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:32:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iconicklaine/pseuds/iconicklaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU/future fic in which Kurt and Blaine are working theatre actors who meet by chance and agree to enjoy one magical New York night together, before they part ways.</p><p>A series of connected 100-word drabbles written for the 2016 Klaineadvent based on 24 prompts. Originally posted on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Night Only

**Author's Note:**

> (For the life of me, I cannot figure out why the word count is 2423. In my Word doc, it's 2424 with the prompt words. I've already re-pasted the text twice, so I guess the missing word will remain a mystery.)
> 
> If you're interested, I also wrote a continuous fic for last year's Klaineadvent: "Back to You and Me." You can find it here on AO3.

_Anniversary_

It’s just Mercedes and Kurt left, huddled together in the oversized round booth, when their server drops off two Poinsettia cocktails. “From the dynamic duo,” she says, nodding toward a 1950s movie star and his large-mouthed friend.

Before he can stop her, Mercedes waves them over. Then it’s too-loud introductions over the din of the bar and warm hazel eyes fixed on Kurt’s lips.

“What are you celebrating?” Sam asks.

“My anniversary,” Kurt says, his shoulders squared. “One year single.”

While Mercedes tells his life as if she’s Shonda Rhimes, Blaine hands Kurt a cocktail napkin that reads: “Lucky me.”

 

 _Broadway_  
They are theater people with Broadway ambition and regional credits, and yet tonight there is no ferreting out of mutuals, no gossip, no talk of auditions or national tours. Just a sweet story about an English bulldog as Kurt inches closer to Blaine’s warmth. A list of silly Christmas wishes as Blaine leans toward Kurt’s gaze. Fangirling over Carrie Fisher as their hands meet and fingers intertwine.

In the contented pause, they both glance at Sam holding Mercedes tightly on the tiny dance floor. 

“She has rules,” Kurt warns.

Blaine turns to Kurt. “He may just want to follow them.”

 

 _Competition_  
“Was he talented?”

Kurt considers Blaine’s question, the memory of his last breakup faded and dull. “At some things. He was a good cook. Inventive.”

Facing each other, just a foot between them, their world is this booth. 

“Was he a good kisser?” Blaine asks, his eyes back on Kurt’s lips.

Kurt laughs, rests his head on the back of the booth. “It’s not a competition.”

Blaine touches the soft cashmere of Kurt’s scarf as if he’s thinking about pulling him closer. Kurt would let him; he’d require no more than the gentlest of tugs.

Blaine smiles lazily. “I’d win.” 

 

 _Day_  
Despite the gentlemanly assurances of her earnest suitor, Kurt insists on walking Mercedes home. 

“May we join you?” Blaine asks. He stretches, unfolding the last two hours. His midnight blue cable knit rides up, revealing salty-kissed promises. 

Soon they’re walking two-by-two down Spring Street, bundled and rosy-cheeked. 

“I wish I could show you my perfect New York day,” Kurt says, linking arms with Blaine.

“Why wish? I’m… I’d like that very much.”

“After tomorrow night I’m crazy busy until I leave for Christmas.”

Blaine slows, pulls Kurt in closer. “So why not start tonight? One day, one _night_ , beginning now.”

 

 _Escape_  
Stepping out of the cab, Kurt takes Blaine’s hand. “Come on. We still have time.”

Inside the lobby Blaine says, “I haven’t been here in years.”

Kurt looks up at the iconic depiction of the Empire State Building behind the front desk, a fantasy in gold leaf. “This place is my escape.”

Blaine chuckles. “An escape? With all of the tourists?”

“This late, the lines are short and the view is spectacular. After midnight, it’s the most romantic place in the city.”

Blaine’s smile is radiant. “The end to your perfect New York day?”

“Yes, but tonight, it’s the beginning.”

 

 _Fan_  
Kurt looks out at the panoramic awesome, the jewels of the night, the possibilities. “When I was a kid, I was such a fan of New York City. I read everything about it…”

Blaine wraps his arm around Kurt’s shoulders, pulls him in close. They’re not the only couple on the main observation deck tonight, but it feels as if they own the building, the city, the stars above. 

Blaine says, “Tell me. Tell me everything.”

Kurt gasps; to hold a handsome gentleman’s attention is a special brand of magic. Is it the hour? The city? The romance of fate?

 

 _Guide_  
“Helen Keller once wrote a letter describing her visit to the Empire State Building,” Kurt says, turning away from the view to face Blaine. “I printed it and pasted it in my scrapbook.”

Blaine leans in; his gentle push lands Kurt back against the wall that separates them from the sky. “Why did you keep it?”

“She said, ‘The tallest building is a victory of imagination.’ It reminded me that the life I imagined for myself was possible.”

Blaine presses in close, his grip firm on Kurt’s waist. “A tour is only as good as the guide. Tell me more.”

 

 _Hope_  
Blaine’s eyes on him are heady. They met only a few hours ago, and yet this man, this dashing charmer breaks down all of Kurt’s walls so easily, it’s as if they were made of paper. With Blaine he would share heartbreak, secret wishes, his enduring hope; and memories so soft and quiet he rarely whispers them, even to himself. 

“You want to kiss me,” Kurt says.

“I do.”

“Not up here. It’s such a cliché.”

Blaine’s sigh is quickly chased by laughter. After a moment he steps back and extends his hand, palm up. “I know just the place.”

 

 _Indecent_  
Blaine settles into the backseat next to Kurt. The sleek black Town Car arrived soon after Blaine called, despite Kurt’s assurances that they could take a cab.

“ _This_ is the ‘place’ you mentioned?”

“I thought we could use a dark, safe, private place until we arrive at the next stop on your list.”

Kurt turns sideways to face Blaine, rests his hand on Blaine’s thigh. “You have plans.”

“If I’d known you in high school, we would have spent _hours_ in backseats.”

“Doing indecent things?”

Blaine’s smile is sweet, but his eyes are dark with desire. “Yes. All of them.”

 

 _Jumble_  
Outside the car a jumble of noise and lights vie for their attention, but fail. Cocooned in the backseat, they are outside of time and place. It could be next week; it could be years from now. They are here in New York, or Rome, or in another bustling city brimming with random miracles and gorgeous strangers. All that matters is this kiss, fated, and sealed with the knowing _thump thump thump_ of Kurt’s heart.

Blaine touches Kurt’s cheek with his strong, warm hand, then slides it to the back of Kurt’s neck. He pulls Kurt forward, eager and sure. 

 

 _Kink_  
Blaine tastes of peppermint. His kiss is firm, confident, as if he thought about it all night and planned every second. Blaine holds Kurt close, one hand on Kurt’s neck as he rubs his thumb back and forth just under Kurt’s ear.

Kurt keeps up, slides his tongue along Blaine’s bottom lip, gives him a little nip. Blaine’s gasp is audible. 

Kurt pulls back, then leans in to whisper in Blaine’s ear. “Is that a tell? Do you have a kink?”

Blaine mumbles something that sounds like “mercy” as Kurt mouths at Blaine’s earlobe, his teeth catching on tender skin.

 

 _Legend_  
Despite his virginal woes in high school, Kurt Hummel’s New York kisses are legend. That first year out of Ohio, he made kissing his art: the Lingering Peck, the Whisper French Kiss, the Tease. Few men matched his skill or confidence; fewer still even bothered to try, content to fall under his spell.

As Blaine coaxes Kurt’s mouth open again with his tongue, Kurt forgets all. The techniques he perfected in his search for love and swagger are lost to this revelation of a man. In Blaine’s arms he is a rare treasure, a wish, Blaine’s perfect man come true.

 

 _Moon_  
“You’ve ruined my chances for a stress-free week,” Kurt says as the car pulls up to the restaurant. 

Blaine pays the driver in cash. Hand on the door handle, he asks, “How so?”

Kurt buttons his coat and does his best to smooth down his hair; he already misses the feel of Blaine’s fingers on his neck, pressing in; at his temples, reverent. 

The moment calls for a quip, but instead Kurt tells the truth. “I’ll waste too much time mooning over you, wishing we could have had more than this night.” 

Blaine beams. “Come on. It’s not over yet.”

 

 _Number_  
Even after two a.m., Blue Ribbon is packed. From their tiny table in too-tight row of more tiny tables Kurt can make out at least three conversations. He leans back against the red velvet banquette and takes in his companion. 

Blaine peruses the menu, mouthing his favorite descriptions with kiss-swollen lips. In the dim lighting Blaine is a mirage, a leading man in Kurt’s dreamiest fantasies. He could ask for Blaine’s number, but he won’t. In time, his adopted city had delivered on nearly every hope he could pack into three suitcases, and in return, Kurt surrendered to the sunrise. 

 

 _Ocean_  
For a meal, they chose ocean over land: oysters, followed by a shared plate of shellfish and two glasses of champagne. 

Sated, Kurt twists the stem of now-empty glass. “I’m not usually this decadent.”

Blaine says, “But this place is part of your best New York day.”

“True, but I usually eat fried chicken at the bar.”

“Well. I’m honored. It’s no small thing, to be worthy of a splurge.”

As the server recites dessert specials, Kurt holds Blaine’s gaze and smiles. Blaine tilts his head, flutters his long eyelashes in silent question. 

Kurt’s answer comes easily. “Just the check.” 

 

 _Passion_  
His ass is backed up to the open refrigerator, but with Blaine’s mouth on his, Kurt barely notices. 

Once at Kurt’s apartment, they’d hung up their coats, and talked of flea markets as Kurt pulled out bowls and searched the fridge for his special clementines in ginger syrup.

It was all quite civilized until Blaine put both of his hands on Kurt’s hips and turned him, then embraced him with such passion, Kurt forgot all about dessert. 

“Are you cold?” Blaine asks, his breath hot on Kurt’s ear. 

Kurt yanks Blaine’s sweater up, then pulls him closer. “Not at all.” 

 

 _Question_  
With one hand, Blaine’s fingers toy with a button on Kurt’s pants; his other hand is planted firmly on Kurt’s ass. “May I?”

Kurt can hardly wait to get Blaine’s hand on his dick, and yet he can’t stop himself: he laughs. He laughs so hard he hits the back of his head on a cupboard door. 

“Ouch. Damn.”

Blaine gently touches the back of Kurt’s head. “Are you okay?” 

Kurt nods. 

“What’s funny?” Blaine asks.

“Sorry—your question. I’m so hot for it, and you’re so polite. Are you always such a gentleman?”

The first button goes easily. 

“No.”

 

 _Regret_  
His sweat-soaked body lax and gorgeous on the cerulean rug, Blaine looks up at Kurt as if bewitched. Yet his gaze is in sharp contrast to the dirty-mouthed encouragement streaming from his mouth.

“That’s it. Ride it. Just like that.” Blaine squeezes Kurt’s thigh muscles, which are about to give out. “Look at you. Fuck, look at you. So strong. Yeah. You can do it. Almost... Fuck. You’re a goddamn _temple_.”

“This is what ‘no regrets’ gets me. I get to see... the man beneath your… dapper layers.”

Blaine’s grin is wicked. “Surprise?”

Kurt laughs. It feels like waking up.

 

 _Shift_  
When they move to the bedroom, buoyant and loose-limbed, Kurt closes his blackout curtains on the morning light. Naked, standing at opposite sides of the bed, they pull back the duvet as if they’ve done this together one thousand times. 

Kurt slides under cool sheets the color of a winter sky. Blaine hesitates; he shifts his weight from one foot to another.

“ _Now_ you’re nervous, Barry White?” Kurt teases.

Blaine laughs, his head falling toward his chest. His cheeks are pink when he lifts his head. “You make me forget to hold back.”

Kurt lifts the sheet. “Come on, then.”

 

 _Time_  
“Another New York story?” Kurt asks. His hand is splayed on Blaine’s belly.

In the moments before Blaine responds, Kurt builds a castle in his heart. He imagines they are lovers. He imagines their love is destined, written on the walls of forever. He imagines tomorrow, and the next.

Blaine kisses Kurt’s forehead. “This is one story I will keep for myself.”

Kurt smiles onto Blaine’s skin. He knew, of course. Castles are the stuff of dreams, fading from memory as the day and reason take over. 

“I guess it’s time,” Kurt says, pulling away. “I’m so glad we met.”

 

 _Underneath_  
Out of breath from running, Kurt and Mercedes make it onto the plane just moments before the last call for boarding, and hurry to stow their bags underneath the seats in Row 4.

Mercedes starts in again as soon as they’re in the air. “You’re so messed up, you’re running around crazy—”

“Yes, yes. I’m an idiot for not asking him out.”

“Or asking him for his number. Or his last name.”

Kurt glances out the window. High above the clouds, he rewrites his future with promises of confession, of finding courage to say yes to his vulnerable heart. 

 

 _Vow_  
Kurt makes a silent vow to drink two Bloody Mary’s. But when the beverage cart reaches their seats near the front, the teeny-tiny flight attendant sets two plastic cups on his tray table: one empty, and one filled with champagne. She then hands him a can of cranberry juice and a tiny bottle of vodka.

“From the gentleman in 16A,” she says with a wink.

“The… who, now?” Kurt asks, craning his neck to look behind him. 

“ _That_ is a DIY Poinsettia,” Mercedes says.

He looks at the cocktail napkin and his pulse quickens. Written in blue ballpoint: “LUCKY ME.” 

 

 _Wish_  
Mercedes happily ensconced in 16A with his iPad, Kurt lifts the armrest and scoots closer to Blaine. That beaming smile, those soulful, sexy eyes—how has he lived without this man for eight days?

Blaine takes Kurt’s hand in his own. “I wished… so much. I wanted—it seems impossible.”

“You mean this isn’t a planned ending to a cheesy rom-com?” Kurt teases. “This is completely random?”

“Well, we’re both from Ohio, and it is Christmas, so there was _some_ chance—”

“Don’t care.” Kurt kisses Blaine’s soft, searching lips. He pulls him closer. “However you’re here, I don’t care.”

 

 _Yesterday_  
In their two-seat row surrounded by passengers, it’s as if the outside world doesn’t exist. Kurt knows this feeling. He’s felt it before; huddled in a booth, the best night of his life had just begun.

Kurt says, “I was a fool.”

“Shh. That was yesterday.” 

“And you?”

Blaine’s smile is sweet, his kiss electric. He says, “I would have done anything you asked.”

“What about now? Would you meet my father? Would you eat his dry turkey and let him beat you at Hearts? Would you stay and… stay?”

Blaine brings their joined hands to his heart. “Sounds perfect.”


End file.
